The Tug of War
by PageKarasu
Summary: 1x2, angst Amongst war, there is a pull. A decision that needs to be made. It's taken a toll, everything has and it's all about to be played out. Time will reveal the way two lives are supposed to be.


Title: The Tug of War 1/??  
Author: PageKarasu  
Archive: Category: Angst, Duo PoV  
Pairing: 1+2 implied  
Rating: PG  
Warnings: language, thoughts of suicide  
Spoilers: None  
Notes: Amongst war, there is a pull... a decision that needs to be made. All I know was that I had a bout of depression and creativity at the same time… rare thing that it is. Written:  
October 4, 2002  
Disclaimer: The characters of Gundam Wing do not belong to me. Period. Don't sue. It's unnecessary.

The Tug of War

It's the same thing… the same tired thing. I'm not sure how much more I can take. I'm really not. The room is dark as it always is, a constant doom and gloom, cold place. He likes it that way, the light substitutes as something to make him see all that he's missing out on. He seems to not want to deal with such things. The same cold person should be waiting up for me… but at least he's waiting.

It's not that I don't love him. In fact, I think it's just the opposite. I love him too much. Not once in the past four years have I not worried about it being okay or hated him for it not being okay… that being our relationship. I'm so sick of not communicating with him. I've tried over and over… so much that I just want to give up on him. Furthermore, it's not like I ask him such trivial questions as 'How are you?' or 'Are you hungry?'. If I get an answer, it's a curt nod or a soft yes… and that's if he has the courtesy of saying anything at all.

I've almost broken into tears trying to get him to respond to me, to be my lover, my… friend. It's pretty damn well known that I'm not one to fret past persuasion about much of anything, I just roll with the punches. But when my patience is worn thin and my head throbs from attempting to get a reaction other than a dubious look or the cold shoulder, my knuckles turn white and I feel incurably defeated. I just wish that for once, all my efforts wouldn't be in vain.

The familiar room smelled of pine cleaner and fresh sheets and I was determined to get to sleep before my overactive brain worked against me. I was pretty confident that the aroma of the room and the lack of Heero's own scent would give me what I needed. As I scanned the room Heero wasn't placed where he usually was, at his old oak desk. That in itself struck me as odd as I plopped onto the bed and divested myself of my outer clothing. Maybe I wouldn't have to deal with him. That thought brought faint bitter laughter from my lips. To deal with? There wasn't anything to deal with. I guess he wasn't waiting up after all.

Getting comfortable in bed I rolled onto my stomach. That's just the kind of blatant power Heero has over me. He made me restless and tricked me into justifing his behavior, erraticating my own. I tossed and turned for a little while, my aggravation and confusion nothing new after all this time. I had to keep asking myself why it was that I refused those sleeping pills… I thought I could do without the doctor's orders… shame on me… shame the fuck on me.

Briefly falling in and out of sleep was driving me up the wall. That sort of state where you can't quite get to sleep and yet are… plus, the humidity in the room from all the air I took up wasn't helping. I got up to open the large regal window when I suddenly spotted Heero at his desk. I felt like I'd just seen a ghost. Stopping mid-trek I wondered how long he'd been there or how long I'd been attempting deep dreamless sleep.

Cursing myself for thoughts of asking him, I tied the curtains open and semi-angrily forced the window open. I looked at him for a few moments. Soon, looking became outright staring and I couldn't believe myself. Tell me please, tell me what it takes for a person to move on… or even to just leave the room. Pathetic, huh? He didn't even look at me, he just kept on typing… what does he write about anyway…? GAH! I can't stop it. I need to get away.

With a sigh I stepped onto the window's ledge, inhaling deeply and arching forward a bit. My hand gripped on to either side of the window, my arms straining. It felt nice… it felt relaxing… it felt free. A fraction of my mind told me to jump and I think I almost wanted to. The breeze carried the cracking sound of my knees as I crouched down for a moment. I slowly inched my feet forward on the piece of protruding cement, loving the feel of pain and ticklish sensation. I wanted to see just how far my feet could go before I slipped off. My hands unconsciously gripped the open window's edges tighter, my unravelling braid thumping occasionally in mock encouragement. An elaborate peace bore through me. What would Heero do if I slid off of the sill and fell three stories down? Just... what... would he do?

… nothing I'd wager.

Sad and morbid, yes. I smiled when the wind picked up a notch. Maybe it was a calling or maybe it was just a coming storm. I preferred to think it was neither… rather Heero running his fingers through my long, neglected hair.

Silly, silly dreams.

My heels dug into the cement with that thought and I was so ready to just… fall. I'd never really considered that approach before. I closed my eyes shut forcefully, trying to concentrate on all the reasons I should do this instead of the one reason saying it would hurt Heero.

I sighed heavily.

"What are you doing?" A voice shook the room.

I opened my eyes and gazed at the moon. Heero. I cursed myself again. Damn it! Damn him. Why couldn't he just have stayed quiet? Why…

"Just feeling the air."

"Are you sure?"

I gave him a short, longing look, "It's comforting."

Heero looked all at once hurt and disturbed… I can't imagine why. The air blew forcefully in and the sound of thunder shook the room. His face recovered I'm sure, quite soon after I left the room.

I think a storm is coming.

End?


End file.
